


When Your Secrets Become My Lies

by tilhi



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M, Oliver Finds Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tilhi/pseuds/tilhi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Oliver figures out the truth about Murder Night, he has to protect both him and Connor with more lies. His plan sorta backfires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Your Secrets Become My Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Set during/post S1 finale. 
> 
> A million thanks to the lovely J, without whom I wouldn't have finished. :)

~*~

_Negative! Have to work now, I'll come over later._

Oliver read the text and grinned. He flopped on the couch and turned on the TV. He had some hours to kill before Connor would be here. 'Working' and 'later' could mean pretty much anything. But that was fine, he was used to it – now that they both had had their good news, the things he had planned for them could wait a little longer.

Oliver flipped through the channels and settled on the news. Something about local politics. Oliver let it play while his thoughts wandered.

Suddenly a phone rang. Oliver looked around. It wasn't his phone, and it couldn't be Connor's, since they had talked and texted earlier. It was only then that Oliver noticed Connor's bag by the door. He must have forgotten it, or left it on purpose since they thought they'd be back from the clinic sooner.

The ringing came from the bag. Oliver walked over and looked through it. He pulled out a phone, a cheap burner by the look of it. It was still ringing, with the name “Jim” on the screen.

Oliver stared at it. Why did Connor have a second phone? The only reason Oliver could think of was that he wanted to keep in touch with someone so that it couldn't be traced. Or so that Oliver wouldn't notice. Oliver had pictured Connor with someone else dozens of times, and now those images went flashing through his mind again. Connor wouldn't... cheat on him again, would he? The phone had stopped ringing, and before he could stop himself he had clicked through to the call logs. He had to know.

The call log was empty, apart from that one call that “Jim” had just made. Oliver checked the texts. Nothing. He checked the contacts. There were four of them – “Jim”, “Meg”, “Allison”, and “Chris”. None of the names were familiar to Oliver. It was beyond weird; why the hell did he have a phone he didn't seem to use at all? Unless, Oliver thought, he deleted the history and texts as soon as he got them.

A familiar name from the TV caught Oliver's attention. There hadn’t been a lot of new developments in the murder investigation of Sam Keating since the arrest of Mrs. Keating's lover, so they were recapping the known facts and popular speculations about the case. Oliver hadn't been paying much attention to the case, but now the reporter was talking about Sam's body, and how the police might find out where it had been burned soon. They mentioned the date of the murder. It was something Oliver already knew, of course. The night of the bonfire. The night Connor came back into his life, high and smelling of smoke--

Oliver stilled. Something stirred in the back of his mind, something he hadn't thought about in a while. Something Connor had said that night.

_Are you on something?_

_I wish._

Just a little later Connor had admitted what Oliver then had thought was the truth, that he _had_ been high.

But...

In the days and weeks after Connor's confession Oliver had done some research on drug addictions. Connor's symptoms didn't seem to match what he knew of withdrawal and recovery, but Oliver had figured not every addict was the same. Maybe Connor had an easier time because he hadn't been using for that long. Maybe the calling him “addict” was an exaggeration. Connor seemed to be fine – latching on to Oliver, apologetic, nervous, careful – but essentially fine, at least physically.

But then there was the smell. Oliver couldn't forget about that awful smell.

_I screwed up. I screwed up so bad._

He opened his laptop and plugged in Connor's phone. The deleted information might still be retrievable, if you knew where to look. Oliver hesitated only for a second. He had to know the truth.

A little while later he was staring at the screen. The calls and texts dated back to when Sam's body had been found. There were many calls to and from the numbers in contacts, most of them fairly short. A lot of texts, too. Oliver scrolled through them. The contact names were obviously fake; Oliver was pretty sure the numbers belonged to Connor's fellow interns.

They were texting about the evidence on the Keating murder, and things the police were finding out and doing. There wasn't anything about their other cases, some of which Oliver knew about because he had helped with them, and nothing about school. All that was obviously done on Connor's actual phone. Oliver kept reading, until one thing made his heart jump to his throat.

_The autopsy report says weapon is a blunt, metal object. Should we get rid of it?_

_No, they've already seen it at the house._

Oliver swallowed but kept reading. Something about some carpet fibers and a wooded area where the body was burned... And then.

_what did she say to you?_

_She promised to protect us. Told me to stop worrying. Odds are better with her._

And a little later,

“ _physical evidence” was the ring, it was Sam's not mine, and N's print was on it_

_F planted it in the woods?_

He read them all. And read them again. He sat still for a long while, letting the words sink in.

_She promised to protect us. F planted it in the woods. Should we get rid of it?_

So. His boyfriend might be a murderer. He or one of his friends had killed Sam, and they were all trying to cover it up.

There were a million thoughts running through his mind, but there was one Oliver couldn't escape.

Their connection was a risk. If anyone found out, Oliver could be in danger. And him knowing made it more dangerous to Connor and the others, too. He'd been doing a lot of illegal stuff. Getting wind of any of it could lead the investigators to other things. He had to protect Connor _and_ himself.

He couldn't tell Connor he knew, either. He didn't want to get on the wrong side of any of them.

So Oliver came to a decision. The only option was to disappear from Connor's life, once and for all. He also had to make sure Connor wouldn't call him for random hookups or emotional support anymore, either. So a simple break-up wouldn't do. Besides, Connor would be suspicious if after all they'd been through Oliver just simply decided to quit him.

So it had to be something big. Something that would freak Connor out so much he'd run away fast and never look back. Oliver just needed to figure out a plan.

He didn’t stop to think about life without Connor. He simply couldn’t. It had to be done.

 

~*~

 

“I tested positive.”

Tears weren't hard to produce. Lying felt so wrong, even though the idea was simple. Connor would take one look at him, say something about how sorry he was, and disappear. He had to, right? He'd come to Oliver's place expecting celebratory sex, but instead got a puffy-eyed, devastated Oliver. Oliver was sure he couldn't handle it.

Connor stared at him, mouth hanging open. After a while he closed it slowly and swallowed. Oliver looked away. Connor was clearly torn, and Oliver wanted nothing more but to pull him into his arms. But he needed Connor gone, as soon as possible, so he could freak out in peace, alone.

“I'm tired,” he said. “You should probably--”

The bed dipped as Connor crawled under the blanket with him. He gathered Oliver in his arms. Oliver let him, even though he knew he shouldn't. He'd be gone in the morning, he told himself. Maybe he could give himself this one last night and pretend everything was going to be okay. He buried his face in Connor's t-shirt and let the tears come.

 

~*~

 

When Oliver woke up, there was a scent of coffee in the apartment. He got up and went to the kitchen, where Connor was making breakfast. Apparently.

“Morning!” said Connor when he noticed Oliver standing in the doorway. He sounded way too chipper, like he was trying too hard to act normal. Like he hadn't held Oliver close and assured him that everything was going to be okay until they had both fallen asleep, tangled together.

“Why are you still here?” Oliver asked.

Connor looked up. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“Come on, you know why,” Oliver said impatiently. Why couldn't he just have left? Now he was stuck with his story, and he really didn't feel like he could keep it together or handle a confrontation right now. “I only let you stay last night because I figured you'd be gone by now.”

Connor looked confused. “Let me stay...?” Then realization dawned on his face. “Did you really think I'd just take off? Just like that?”

Oliver looked away. “Look. I know you don't want or need any of this right now. I don't want you to stay because you feel guilty, or you pity me. Just because you don't want to be that guy.”

Connor leaned on the counter. “So why then? What would be a good reason to stay?”

“Nothing. I don't want you to stay.”

Connor looked stricken, before determination took over his face and he stepped closer.

“Tough shit. Because I'm not going anywhere.”

Oliver felt like crying again. Nothing he tried was working. Maybe he should have known. He definitely hadn't given Connor enough credit. This was an awful, stupid plan. But he had to stick with it now.

“Yeah, you are,” he said and walked over to the couch to pick up Connor's coat and bag. “Just go, Connor. Don't make this harder than it has to be.” He pushed the coat and bag to Connor's hands and went to open the door. “Please. Let me be alone for a while.”

Connor looked lost, like he wanted to keep arguing but didn't want to push Oliver. “Will you call me? I could come with you to your appointment. You have a doctor's appointment soon, right?” he asked while walking slowly towards the door, clutching his things. “I don't want you to go alone.”

“No. I mean, yeah, I do. But I don't want you there.”

Connor was already out the door but he turned at Oliver's words. “Come on, Oliver. You're not alone in this.”

“Yeah, I am.” And he closed the door in Connor's face.

 

~*~

 

Connor called him. And texted him. And emailed him. Oliver never answered the phone and deleted all the emails without reading them. Luckily Connor hadn't come by, at least not when Oliver was home. He tried not to be at home too much. He worked late, spent evenings out, walked around for miles.

He missed Connor like crazy. He had a hard time reconciling the two Connors in his head – the one who sat on his couch sneaking glances at Oliver when he thought he wouldn't notice or stayed over when Oliver had had too much to drink, and the one who had possibly murdered someone.

Then again, the Connor who had a nervous breakdown at his door and the Connor who kept coming back even though there was no chance of sex, just to watch stupid stuff with him or quietly study while Oliver made them dinner, those were the same person too.

It all made sense now – his comment about how he didn't trust anyone in his life except Oliver – clearly, his place had been a sanctuary to Connor, an escape. Oliver wondered if he should feel used, but he realized he didn't really mind. He had liked the way Connor had been with him this time around.

Apparently, Connor had felt the same. And now, thinking Oliver was going through something really hard, he wanted to pay it back. He wanted to be there for Oliver this time. This really was the stupidest plan of all time, Oliver thought. He should've just broken up with him. As if that would've been any easier. But at least there would have been less lying involved.

 

~*~

 

Daniel called him. Oliver didn't want to pick up first. He figured it was a booty call – Dan's underwear-model-boyfriend was probably out of town or they were on a break again. Oliver didn't feel like being the back-up, but then he figured Dan's easy company might be good for him. He needed to forget Connor, get him out of his system, and maybe those biceps were exactly what he needed to do that.

They ended up going to dinner and catching up. It was nice, actually; they both whined a little about their love lives and talked about nothing in particular. Daniel wasn't particularly funny, but he was easy to talk to.

Afterwards, he dropped Oliver off at his apartment, clearly hoping to be invited up. But Oliver couldn't stop thinking about Connor, and a meaningless hook-up wasn't what he wanted right now. So he said goodnight, got out of the car and watched Daniel drive away.

“What the hell, Oliver?”

Oliver turned sharply. Connor was walking towards him, and he was clearly pissed off.

“What are you doing here, Connor?” Oliver asked, hesitantly. “Were you _waiting_ for me?”

Connor didn't answer. Instead, he pointed at the direction Dan had driven off. “That guy? Seriously? You're seeing him after what he did to you?”

“What he did to me?” Oliver asked. “What, listen to me and make me dinner? Yeah, he was such a horrible person, really--”

“It was him, wasn't it? You got it from _him_.” Connor was visibly furious. “Had to be him, right? I swear I'm going to kill that guy.”

It was only then Oliver realized what he was talking about – of course. Dan was the only one who Connor knew he'd been with lately. His temper flared.

“Right. Because you know for a fact that it had to be him. Because there couldn't have been anyone else, right? Because who would sleep with pathetic, heartbroken, desperate Oliver?”

Connor looked at him, his anger suddenly gone. “Come on, that's not what I meant.”

“Of course you didn't.”

“Do you know it wasn't him, then?” Connor asked, looking away. “Who was it? Have you figured--”

“What are you doing here, Connor?” Oliver asked, annoyed. “None of this is any of your business!”

Connor rubbed his neck. “I was just worried about you. You wouldn't return my calls.”

Oliver sighed. He wanted nothing more than to tell Connor the truth. The whole thing had got way out of hand, and the lying didn't sit well with Oliver. He had panicked, and made up a stupid lie. He had to remind himself that this was dangerous, for both of them. He needed to get away from Connor, even if he didn't want to, and he needed to make Connor understand.

“I don't need you to worry about me,” he said. “I told you, I don't need anything from you.”

Connor flinched at the words. “What if I need you?” he asked quietly.

Oliver shook his head. “That's it, isn't it? I was just something for you to lean on, someone to be there for you when you couldn't take care of yourself.”

“No, that's not--”

“Well, I'm sorry, but I don't want that anymore. I can't be that for you, Connor.” He could feel the tears coming, so he turned away quickly and opened the door to the building.

“Just. Leave me alone,” he said over his shoulder and closed the door behind him. He took the steps up two at a time, his breath hitching. Damn him for being so weak, and damn Connor for making him forget everything he knew about him. He wanted to do it all over, do it differently, be honest with Connor. He just wanted back the Connor he thought he had known.

 

~*~

 

A few days later Oliver was sitting on his couch, watching TV. Or more accurately, the TV was on, and Oliver was sitting in front of it, staring into the distance.

There was a knock on the door.

“Oliver?” He heard Connor's voice through the door. He walked slowly closer.

“Oliver, are you there?”

Oliver stood in front of the door and tried not to breathe too loudly.

“I know you're scared. I'm scared too. Please let me in. Please.”

He shouldn't do this. He should pretend no-one was home. But apparently Oliver was helpless when it came to Connor. He opened the door.

“I'm not addicted to drugs,” Connor said as soon as the door opened. He walked inside. Oliver closed the door.

“You were right,” Connor continued. “I did lean on you. But it wasn't because I was an addict. And you were wrong, too. Because that's not all I want from you. I want you. I want all of you, and I want to be there for you when you need me, because you do, Oliver. You do need me. You told me you love me. I don't even know if you remember, but _I_ do remember, and--”

“I don't have HIV,” Oliver said.

Connor stopped in the middle of his sentence. “What?”

“I know you're not an addict. And I don't have HIV.”

Connor stared at him.

“Did you kill Sam Keating?” Oliver asked.

“What?”

“Come on, Connor. You haven't done drugs. You were a mess that night, but you weren't high. The smoke and ashes all over you, on the same night Sam Keating went missing, and the fact that his body was burned... Do I need to go on?”

Connor wrapped his arms around himself.

“I didn't,” he said. “I didn't kill him.”

Oliver pushed on. “But you know who did? You helped?”

Connor let out a ragged breath. He walked to the couch, sat down and leaned his elbows on his knees.

“Will you let me tell you everything?” he asked.

Oliver sat down next to him. “I think you owe me that much.”

“You're right. I do. And I'll tell you.” Connor looked at him. “But... You don't have HIV?”

Oliver shook his head. “You first.”

So Connor told him. He told him every little detail of that horrible night, and Oliver listened. For the first time in a long time, he saw Connor. Scared, anxious, desperate Connor, who hadn't known what to do.

“Why did you come here?” Oliver asked when Connor was done. “You had to know it was a huge risk.”

Connor leaned back and closed his eyes. “I don't know. I don't even remember deciding to come here. I just remember feeling like I couldn't breathe, and how I was falling, and all I could think about was here. You. That here I would be able to breathe. And when you let me in I wanted to tell you everything. I was going to. But then the shower cleared my head, I guess, and I realized I couldn't. I couldn't do that to the others. Or you. Or me. So I made up that lie about drugs. “

They sat in silence for a while.

Connor leaned in closer so their shoulders bumped a little. “So... the test?” he asked.

“I lied,” Oliver said. “I needed you to leave.”

Connor turned towards him. “So you lied to me? About HIV, of all things? Do you realize how worried I was?”

“You want to talk about lying, Connor?” Oliver voice rose a little. “I washed your murder clothes in my machine!”

Connor shut up at that. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. Until--

“Call it even?”

Oliver stared at Connor. He let out a breath and leaned his head on his hand, burying his fingers in his hair. “We are such fuck-ups.”

He looked up at Connor. “I'm sorry I lied,” he said. “I panicked. I was so sure that would make you get out fast. I really thought – I actually still think – that it would make things more dangerous. Like, they'd find out everything I've done and it would be worse for you. I thought I was protecting you. And me. Let's not forget about me. I thought you had murdered someone.”

“Well, I didn't,” Connor said. “But what we did was just as bad. We panicked. It all got totally out of hand. None of us could handle it or knew what we were doing. And then we were more worried about our precious futures than actually doing the right thing.”

Something occurred to Oliver then.

“You're not going to let an innocent man get convicted, are you? He is innocent, isn't he? Nate?”

Connor nodded. “Annalise has a plan. She has to. She wouldn't let him take the blame over us. It'll work out. Somehow. Or that's what I keep telling myself.” He leaned back on the couch and rubbed his forehead.

“Some days I just want it all to be over,” Connor said. “Confess, go to prison, I don't care. But most days... I want to get away with it. I want a normal life. I'm an awful person, aren't I?”

Oliver put his hand on Connor's knee. “You're not awful for wanting a normal life.”

Connor put his hand on top of Oliver's. “I don't want to drag you into this. If you want me to go, I'll go. Now that I know you're not sick, I'll... I'll deal. I'll stay away, if that's what you want. Because you're right, if they catch us, they might figure out the stuff you've done. And I might not be able to protect you.”

“I already got rid of some evidence I dug up while I was figuring it all out,” Oliver said. “So I think it's safe to say it's kinda too late not to drag me into this.”

He then leaned forward towards the wide-eyed Connor and pressed his lips against his. It took about two seconds before Connor leaned into the kiss and pulled Oliver closer.

“Hey,” Oliver said, breaking the kiss. “You're not alone in this.”

The relieved look Connor gave him made Oliver's breath catch. Connor grabbed Oliver and pulled him into another kiss. And another.

“You're insane,” Connor said in between kisses.

“So you've said,” said Oliver while he sneaked his hand under Connor's shirt. “I think I'm starting to agree with you.”

 

~*~

 

Later, much later, they were lying on the couch, facing each other, Oliver's hand around Connor's waist and their legs tangled together.

“Did you really think I'd leave you because you were positive?” Connor asked, placing a kiss under Oliver's chin.

Oliver closed his eyes, feeling Connor's lips moving against his throat and towards his neck. “Yeah, I guess I did,” he said and swallowed.

Connor lifted his head to look at him. “Oliver, I... I wouldn't. And I didn't. You made me leave. I never would have. Don't you know... Don't you realize what you mean to me?”

“I guess not.”

Connor flipped them over so that he was lying on top of Oliver.

“Well. I think you're an idiot,” he said matter-of-factly. “And I love you.” He kissed Oliver. And smiled.

“Yeah, that about sums it up.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
